"Are you sure you’ll be okay?"

Mom’s concerned gaze traps me into a battle of wills. She fidgets with her purse and keys, acting like I’m twelve and it’s the first time she’s leaving me alone.

"I think I can handle a couple of nights by myself." Counting to ten, I force my voice to stay level. "You need to stop hovering."

She glances outside, standing by the door. An Uber driver patiently waits by the curb.

"I can’t help it. I’m your mom."

If I had a nickel every time I’ve heard that. "And I love you for caring so much, but I’ll. Be. Fine. Seriously."

She clutches her Kate Spade bag, fingers whitened from her grip. "I know you’re made of stronger stuff than I am, but I think losing James will hit you hard. I want to be there for you when it does."

"Nothing’s hitting me. I am glad the engagement is over. Go before your Uber leaves."

An angry chime splits the silence, and Mom glances at the screen. "You know I’d never leave you, right? I wouldn’t, but Claire’s having a hard time without John. It’s her first Christmas without—"

"Yeah, yeah." I wave her off. "Go outside!"

She does, pausing at the threshold. "Promise me you’ll do something. Don’t just sit here all day and watch TV—"

"I will. Go!"

Halfway down the driveway, she pauses again. Ignoring the impatient honks of the driver, she implores me to get a Christmas tree and call her if I need anything.

The chill rolls over my bare feet, and I shut the door. Wrapped in my robe, I sink into the couch. My fingers curl into the warm throw as the car drives away.

Everyone thinks I’m on the verge of a meltdown, but they didn’t know my ex. Sure, to the untrained eye he was a catch. A hedge fund heir who invested a large sum of money into an artisanal organic soda company. It boomed into a thriving business that could probably support us and two kids, provided he played his cards right. But the spark was never there.

He was fine. Better than fine, really, but our relationship had fizzled out before we were engaged. If I’m upset, it’s because everyone keeps rubbing in the fact that I’m alone.

You must be devastated.

He dumped you on Christmas.

Poor you.

Over and over.

I flip through television channels, annoyed by the jingle of Christmas music. Earlier, carolers sang from the street. The music filled me with a rage I didn’t understand.

A fist knocks the door. I freeze. It knocks again.

More carolers? Cursing this overly friendly neighborhood, I plaster a smile on my face and answer the door.

"Hey."

Ronan looks just as hot as when I caught him shooting hoops with Lance. A charcoal, cashmere sweater makes his eyes pop. They’re a sapphire blue, just like his mom’s. A fresh scent wafts from his skin, the same one that clung to my shirt when I woke up bundled in my bed.

He humiliated you, remember?

I seize the door, preparing to slam it shut. "What is it?"

"I wanted to apologize for what Lance said. He’s an idiot."

I won’t lie. Seeing my former tormenter so out-of-shape, hunched over and pathetic was nice. "And yet you still keep his company. Birds of a feather."

"Yeah, well. I’m not a fan of the guy, but we go way back."

I’m not interested in his bromance. "What do you want?"

"Can I come inside?" He rubs his flushed hands.

"Sure." If I’d known he was coming, I would’ve run a comb through my damned hair. "Uh—do you want some tea?"

Please don’t.

He brightens. "Yeah, sure."

Annoyed, I fill the kettle. Then I turn the burners on, hoping he’ll be gone before it whistles.

Ronan strolls into the kitchen as though he’s been here a thousand times, moving with a careless ease that I wholeheartedly envy. I bang two mugs onto the counter, and when I turn he’s staring at me.

A pulse throbs in my neck. "So…why are you here?"

"Just wanted to see what you were up to, I guess."

"Okay." I rake my head, almost forgetting the tea when the kettle screams. "Mom told me to buy a Christmas tree, so I’ll probably get that over with today."

"Perfect. Let’s go."

I chortle, pouring him a mug of peppermint tea. "You’re not invited."

"How the hell are you going to chop down a tree?" He seizes my bicep, squeezing. "You’re too dainty."

"Who says I’m chopping one?" I shrug, moving my cup to the table. "I’ll probably just go to Target and buy the cheapest thing there—what? It’s just a tree."

Ronan releases my arm as a flood of heat fills my cheeks.

"You obviously don’t know the difference, so I’ll tell you. Freshly cut trees are way better than that plastic crap from a store. They smell better. They look real because they are real." Ronan jerks his head toward the door. "Come on. I’ll cut it down for you."

"What’s your angle?" I peer at his chiseled features. "You don’t have to do anything for me."

"Maybe I feel bad for being such a prick during high school."

I’m not buying it, but who am I to turn down free labor?

"Fine, but this doesn’t make us even."

A battered cardboard sign with streaking black ink advertises Newman’s Christmas Trees. Hanging lights illuminate a row of decapitated trees. Ronan turns into the lot, parking next to a family. Kids chase each other as their father ties the tree to the roof of their dinky car.

I step outside when Ronan cuts the engine. "You do this every year?"

"We used to when Dad was around." Ronan locks the car, a sad smile playing on his lips. "When he left, Mom just used the same plastic thing year after year, until it fell apart."

I tense at the anger winding his voice, reminded of my nine-year-old self’s shock at the cheerful boy next door suddenly turning sullen. No matter how hard Ronan tried to hide his pain, I knew his dickish behavior manifested from a very hurt place. Part of it, at least.

Ronan leans on the car, shaking his head as though it’ll dislodge the bitterness. "Anyway, then Liam got a job in retail, and he started buying the trees." He opens his trunk, grabbing the axe. "Come on."

We walk into a lot bustling with families choosing last-minute trees. People smile at us. Ronan and I probably look like a couple looking to get a tree for our apartment. I don’t mind that assumption because it’s better than walking in here, wondering if everyone can tell that I’m horribly alone.

A text chimes from my phone. It’s from my ex. "Ugh."

Ronan glances over. "What’s up?"

"My stupid ex." I stuff the phone deep into my purse. "He keeps bugging me."

"So block the deuce."

"Can’t. We still have things to sort out." Like me moving out. "Not looking forward to it."

"All you need to worry about right now is which tree you want. And how you’ll repay me."

"We can talk about repayment when you’ve erased your asshole debt."

He snorts. "Asshole debt?"

"It’s what happens when you’re a jerk for so many years to people who don’t deserve it."

A deep sound rumbles from the back of his throat. "Maybe you’ll have it in your heart to forgive me."

He makes that seem so suggestive, and yet I still feel like the perv. Ronan hasn’t done or said a thing to hint that’s he’s interested in anything more.

I swallow hard. "Probably not."

Ronan points an axe at a tree missing a clump of branches. "That one’s okay."

"There’s got to be better."

Side-by-side, we stroll through the rows of Christmas tree rejects. Stunted, ugly things that nobody wants.

"Is it weird that I feel bad for them?"

"Not at all." Dimples carve into his cheek. "Bleeding heart."

"I want to find the ugliest tree and bring it home. That one looks very Charlie Brown-ish."

"It’s skeletal," he says, dismissing it. "Your mom will be pissed. What about a Douglas fir?"

It’s cone-shaped, gnarled, and nasty-looking. A tough tree. But the needles are brown.

"Hmm." I turn on the spot, my breath misting the air. "That one?"

Shorter than the others, the tree stands at a crooked angle. Branches warp around a curiously blank spot on the stump.

"Sold. Ugly as hell." He rolls his sleeves to keep his sweater clean from flying pine needles. "Stand back."

It’s nice to watch Ronan break a sweat on my behalf. There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing those rippling muscles in action.

He swings. A crack like a gunshot shoots through the lot.

"Wow." Desire tugs at my heart when he gives me a hearty wink.

He brushes needles off his broad chest. "Want to try?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever done it before?"

"Nope."

Ronan gives me the axe. The handle is still warm from his touch. I’m glad the cold disguises the sudden rush of heat to my face when he guides my waist. His fingers are gentle as he positions me.

The axe weighs down my arms. I squint at the progress he made and swing. The blade misses wildly, sinking into the bark with a jarring thud.

"Ow!" The shock reverberates into my elbow. "That hurt my wrists."

I struggle to pry it loose, incensed by his laughs.

"It hurts because you’re so dainty." Ronan yanks it free, sliding it back into my grip. "Try again."

This time, he moves behind me. His arms snake around me, finding the axe. His bearlike hands fold over mine.

"First, you make a notch." A blast of air hits my cheek. "Then you chop the other side until it falls."

Ronan’s closeness steals my breath. His unexpected warmth fills my stomach. It’s like I’d been freezing this whole time, and I didn’t even realize. God, it feels damned good. So much so that his shameless flirting doesn’t bother me.

What does he want?

The wonderful feeling disappears as Ronan releases my hands and steps away. It’s like being doused with cold. Without him, I’m freezing again.

I swing. The axe skates off the bark.

I sigh, handing it back to him. "This isn’t my thing."

"That’s okay. You have plenty other things going for you."

I snort, watching him fell the tree in a few quick strikes. "Like what?"

"A nice ass." Ronan smirks as he drags the tree to the cabin where electric saws are set up outside. "I need to saw the base to make it flat. Hold on."

A nice ass.

That brings a smile to my lips, even though he’s being crass. "Seriously, what’s with the flirting?"

"Some people like to flirt, Good Girl. It’s fun."

"I know it is, but it’s weird coming from you."

"Is it?" Ronan yanks the stump over the circular saw. "You’ve known me forever."

The mechanical scream of the saw seems to cleave me in two. What is he saying? That he had a crush on me?

No way.

Ronan’s pestered me for years. Aside from a brief truce when we were children, our relationship was hate at first sight. Now he’s pretending to be into me to set me up for another humiliation.

But if this is a prank, he’s going about it an odd way. Lifting the tree with one hand, he strolls to the cashier.

The old man seizes the yellow tag. "That’ll be thirty bucks."

Ronan rips out his wallet and gives him two twenties. "Thanks, man."

The change goes into the tip jar.

Beaming, the cashier waves at us. "Merry Christmas!"

"You too!" Whistling, Ronan makes his way back to the car.

My head reels with the strangeness of it all. "What are you doing?"

He pauses in the middle of tying the tree to the roof. "Securing the tree. What does it look like?"

"I mean, why are you paying for my Christmas tree? You don’t owe me anything. We’re not friends. We weren’t even acquaintances before this."

"Guys do things to get a hot girl’s attention," he says, stealing the air from the world. "Even when she’s as stubborn as you."

After he’s done tying the tree, he opens my door. "After you."

I roll my eyes, sliding inside. The mirror reflects my pink face.

He settles into the driver’s seat. "There’s no trick, Gigi. I’m not out to get you."

"You’re always out to get me. Remember spring break of freshman year? Your super soakers blasted into my room while I was asleep—"

Ronan roars with laughter. "God, I almost forgot about that."

"That—wasn’t—funny!"

"You were supposed to hit me back, Gigi. That’s the whole point of pranks."

"I didn’t want to engage in your juvenile behavior." Anger burns in my chest as I remember waking to a jet of water aimed at my face. "I really hated you."

"I’m sorry. In my defense, I was a teenage boy."

"No, no, no. Don’t you dare give me that 'boys will be boys' crap, because I will shove that so far up your ass—"

"Ooh. Kinky. Can you run it by me before putting anything up there?"

"Talking to you is so fucking exhausting."

"Relax. We had fun, didn’t we?"

Until he pushed my buttons. "Why is it that you’ve always been the only guy in my entire life that can get me this upset?"

Ronan’s grin broadens. "Because you have a crush on me."